


Batman and Harley: The Promise

by SolusAuctor



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Original Fiction, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolusAuctor/pseuds/SolusAuctor
Summary: When a desperate Joker's latest scheme ends with Batman locked in a vault with Harley Quinn, the two of them share a tender moment in the face of death. Under the hope of a promise, Harleen Quinzel and Batman begin a friendship in the waning days of the dark knight's crusade as he come to terms with there being something else besides vengeance, and maybe Harley has the answer.
Relationships: Harleen Quinzel & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1: Falcone's end.

Gotham. December.

Snow pelting down, whiting out all of Gotham in a tidal basin of wind and greyness. The red and blue lights of the GCPD cruiser cut through the dark white; mixing with the red, green, and blue of the lights above the glass canopy of the plaza of Falcone's towering skyscraper. The cruisers had sped and skidded to a halt. Once upon a time ago it would have been Jim Gordon stepping out, yammering into a speaker and asking for his team to make a perimeter. Now it was two young women slipping out in their Kevlar-clad suits; their hair in ponytails, and an impassive look on both their faces. The driver, Stacy, let out a yawn as she shut the car-door.

"Joker?" she asked the other.

"Don't underestimate him, Stacy. He's psychotic and at the end of this rope."

"So is the majority of Arkham Prime and they're all snugged up cozy. Joker'll be in there before the night is out."

Mel looked up only to see the dark, blurry shape that sped through the whiteness. She looked over to her partner and smiled.

"Guess he'd like to take this one personally. Hang back. Make a perimeter, you know the rules," she said as she stretched and cracked her neck. "This'll be quick."

Carmine Falcone's home away from home was a towering pylon of massive proportions. The Bat had already thermal scanned from afar. He slammed in through the window of the twenty-second floor, rolling, and landing into a dilapidated room filled with reports and drawing cabinets. Up above on the top floor was the penthouse that belonged to Falcone. He slid through each floor like a shadow, cracking, breaking, trampling, and incapacitating every goon who'd wandered down from Falcone's abode.

The final goon before he'd entered the penthouse was a scrawny man with a face painted in white and red makeup. Joker. The fear spread on his face as the Bat lifted him up by his throat. "How many inside?"

"Joker's got Falcone tied up. Twelve more," he said, straining to breathe under the crushing weight of Batman's hand. "Please…don't." The left fist went to his temple, shattering through skin, cracking bone. The goon's body went limp and he fell to the floor.

He slid in through the ventilation to the right hallway, passing by cheap antiques and paintings which reminded him of his own place; tacky. Once he'd slipped into the penthouse, he was on the second-floor, crouching and peering through the metal railings to see below.

Falcone was gaunt and looking tired with dried blood down his pajamas. He was tied to a chair, surrounded by six fully automatic rifles trained on him. Behind him was the door to his vault, wide open. From inside it stepped out familiar shape—the purple suit, white skin, and cringe-inducing smile.

"Not much in there but old books and papers, Carmine, my boy. You don't keep cash on you?"

"Digital world, clown. I don't need it."

"You know," said Joker as he slid out the signature revolver with the extra-long barrel, "When we picked you up at the manor, I thought you'd put up more of a fight. Guess I figured wrong. Old age will do that to you I guess."

From the vault stepped another familiar shape. Harley Quinn, in her red and black jumpsuit morphing to her petite form. He watched her stepped out quietly, nursing her eye which looked like she'd been socked hard.

"Harley—the Bat'll be here soon. You know what to do."

"Yes, Mistah J," she said with an air of sadness.

"Toot sweet," snapped the Joker.

"What the fuck are you plannin'? I ain't got no money. You'll pay for this—" The butt of the revolver went across Falcone's cheek, spraying blood and teeth out. "You bas—"

"You're too long in the tooth to be making threats," said Joker and he slammed the butt into Falcone's face again and again as the goon's watched on in horror as there was a muffled cracking of bone.

When the Joker regained his composure he cracked his neck and nodded at his goons. "Drag him into the vault."

Falcone's face was dripping goopy droplets of blood that hung from his chin as two of Joker's goon slid him into the vault. Why was Joker gunning for Falcone? If not for money then he'd surmised it would come down to being a trap for him alone, or maybe two birds with one stone. It didn't matter, he thought as he jumped the railing. This would end easily enough.

He slammed onto the ground. The goon's turned, some in ravenous hunger, some in fear. The Joker fell back as he pushed two of his goons forward. "Looks like we're having Bat for Christmas dinner, boys. Let's fire up the ol' cookerooni."

They all ran forward. A flurry of fists flew out at him but he was too quick, jumping and floating around them. Behind the two goons on the right was Harley but she continued to nurse her eye, not so much in the situation as he'd expected her to be. He waited for the mallet to come flying at him but she waited back with another white-faced goon. It was a barrage of cracking blows towards a row of heads and chests.

He saw the Joker slip into the vault. An echoing gunshot rang out, lighting up the dim room with a flash of yellow. The clown prince sauntered out of the vault with a bright smile on his face and freshly sprayed blood. "Harley," he yelled. "Less pity, more hitty."

"Okay," she said as she ran forward with her mallet raised. There was only three goons left.

"Knock knock," said Harley as she slammed down her mallet, knocking a goon in the head and launching him out of sight. A split second later and she'd swung the mallet back, hitting the goon on Batman's right. He turned away from Harley as he stepped back and poised herself for another attack. He bobbed and weaved Harley as she launched the mallet towards him, swinging lazily. She was telegraphing all her moves. In the darkness of the second floor, the Joker's cackle surrounded him as he saw the wry smile on Harley's face as she kept swinging at him.

"Almost," yelled the Joker as up above there came a laser, aiming towards Batman's chest. He looked down at it, snapped a smoke pellet, and dropped down. The laser didn't move. The remaining goons around him and Harley stumbled into the smoke. He felt the kick knock him back; his hands gripped the edges of the vault door to stem his balance.

"Merry Christmas to me," said the Joker as a gunshot rang out and shot between Batman and whoever stood in front of him.

He felt their hands on his chest, launching him backwards as another gunshot went between the pair of phantom hands. He heard Harley scream out as she flew towards him, smashing into him. She fell on top of him and went limp. Somebody had shoved her in full force. He saw the fear in her eyes seconds before she crashed into him, knocking him backwards onto the ground. The fabric of her suit rubbed against his face as his hands went to her hips, lifting her up.

"Move, Quinn," he yelled with a muffle, realizing too late that her blood had sprayed onto his suit.

The door slammed shut, encasing them in the dim light of the vault. Outside there was the sound of muffled cheers and hollers from the remaining goons. Batman rushed to the door and slammed against it, but it wouldn't budge. He could hear Harley in the darkness, groaning. From the other side he heard tapping, and then the muffled voice came through.

"Helllooooo, Bats. You in there? I gotta say, I didn't think you'd fall for such a simple trap, but well, looks like you've lost your edge."

"Mistah J, I'm stuck in here with the Bat," said Harley weakly.

"Jokerm, Harley's hurt. She needs medical attention—open the door. Now."

"Harley? Now why would you be in there? You're trying to make me jealous aren't you?"

"Open the door," she whispered.

"I can't do that, honey. I'm sorry but you made the mistake of falling in there in the first place. That wasn't part of the plan."

"But—"

"No 'buts', Harley. I might as well let the Bat out if I open it up now."

"Pud—"

"Now you're in here and oh looky lou. Looks like there's only a finite amount of oxygen. I guess your goose—I mean turkey—is cooked. Anywho I've got to get going. I'll see you both on the other side."

A blasting vibration shook through the room. Batman turned over and got to his feet. Inside the room was a small library of books, but as the left side of the room dipped Batman knew exactly what was happening. The vault span as another muffled rumble went off. Somebody was blowing up the building from inside out and the vault was bouncing through the floors like a pinball. The explosions stopped as the vault dropped further. There were deep, heavy vibrations as the room shook violently and then there was a final crashing thud as the contents of the room exploded outwards. Harley rolled over and slid down towards Batman who had stabilized himself.

"It's no use," said Harley. "We're both trapped. He turned this into a big coffin. No gadgets to help you out this time, B-Man," said Harley weakly as her eyelids fluttered.


	2. Chapter 2: The Moment.

He couldn't give up. He'd decided that he'd have to settle for using a distress beacon. The signal on his belt just flashed on as he pressed it. The only other thing he knew he could do was try to boost his own signal and pray the GCPD could reach him. But what state was the building in after those explosions and how long could that take to sift through rubble? As he looked around the vault he swallowed hard and ignored the ringing in his ears. He'd slipped. The great Batman was locked into a mechanical coffin. By his calculation they had less than an hour of oxygen at most. All he could do now was pray the signal could locate them. When he looked over he saw Falcone, his neck had snapped in the chaos of the vault tumbling down, but he hadn't felt it since the Joker had shot him between the eyes anyway.

Fresh blood poured on the metallic floor underneath Harley. Batman knelt down.

"Harley," said Batman.

"Whaddya want, Bats?"

"I need to see where you were shot, please, don't struggle."

He rolled her over to her side and she winced with pain. On the left side of her torso he saw that the bullet had gone through her rib and out the other side. Fresh blood seeped out. He always kept a small med-kit on his belt, just in case.

"Stop," said Harley, her words almost airless. "Stop, don't hurt-"

"Don't resist. I'll need to add some gauze and bandage to stem the bleeding. It will do the job for now."

He slipped out the roll of bandages from his belt and the synthetic-skin patches. His gloves slid into the torn fabric of her suit and there was a loud tear of the material. He felt the smooth bumps of her ribs as he applied the skin-adhesive. He rolled her over to finish off the bandages. It would hold for now and stem any more blood loss, and that's all that mattered. She'd survive. The Joker had shot her—he'd truly not cared about her enough.

Harley slid away from Batman, stopping as she hit the side of the wall. "He shot me," she said as her voice cracked. "Mistah J shot me."

"And he's locked you in here with me."

He saw Harley cover her face. She yanked off the jester-ears of her costume and threw them towards Batman. They landed on him and fell onto the floor with a jingle. He didn't bother to look at them. He focused on Harley's sagging shoulders as she sobbed quietly to herself. Through every high-pitched gasp he could hear the sincerity of her tears, unlike the hundreds of times she'd faked them.

Batman squinted his eyes. "What was that tonight, Harley?"

"What's it to you? Just leave me alone," grumbled Harley. "We'll both be dead soon anyway and I'd rather do it not listenin' to you."

"Why did you push me? The Joker had a clear line of sight on me. Jilted lover issues?" He watched her as she wiped at her eyes, the patches underneath giving way to the pinkish skin of her real cheeks. Her right eye was dark and purple.

"Nunna ya concern."

"What's the matter, growing a conscience?"

"Not that it's any of your concern, Bats. Just stick to your broodin'—ow—and leave me alone," she said as she gripped her side.

"You have put yourself on the line for him time and time again. How many times are we going to do this, Quinn? How many times does he need to break you in order for you to see the truth."

"I see it," she said softly.

"He's out there and for all your worth, he's left you to die just like me. I hope this is the wake-up call you needed."

"Don't talk down to me, Batbrain. You're not so much better yourself. Figures the one time the great dark knight gets out of somewhere unbreakable it's when I'm with him. I got tha worst luck with men."

Batman rubbed his chin. "Was this his master plan? Lock me in a vault? I'm disappointed."

They sat across from each other. He felt Harley examining him with incredulity. It was the look on her face that shifted between distrust and curiosity. They'd never been in this type of situation before.

"He hasn't kept me in touch with his plans lately. Why would he? He's getting' worse. Whaddya expect?"

"You don't sound too pleased," said Batman as he walked over to her.

She looked up at him as he knelt down. When his fingers went to her cheek she twitched. He moved them to her chin and turned her head to the left. "And he did that to you as well?" Her eye was bloodshot. "He hit you in here before I showed up," he said, his voice filled with disgust.

"Not ya concern," she said as she turned away from him. "Stop tryin' to pity me."

"I'm not. I'm just making idle conversation," said Batman.

"Just be quiet. Let me die quietly," she said as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, running through the white paint.

Batman stared at her. "Do you believe he's worth it? Do you still hope he'll change?"

"After tonight, if I make it out this coffin, I'll never have hope with love ever again," she yelled at him with her fists clenched. "You like kickin' me while I'm down, huh?"

"Conserve your oxygen intake," said Batman

Harley grimaced. "That's always you, Bats. Logic first."

"Why did you push me really? It wasn't to get me in here. You weren't supposed to push me in here. That was his thug's job, so why? "

"I—I just—I don't know. I didn't want him to shoot you. That what you wanna hear? Make you feel better?"

"Hardly. Just leaves me with more questions than answers."

"You're a detective, you'll figure somethin' out," she said.

"You were telling me all your moves, and you hardly cracked wise with me. What's really going on?"

"I don't know. I don't know," she said softly as she looked down. "I just don't know anymore."

Batman stood up and looked over at Carmine's corpse as Harley sighed. There was a brief thought in Bruce's head that maybe this really was how he was going to die. Encapsulated in metal with the wench of his greatest enemy. And he never expected the words to come flowing so easily to her in this giant coffin. He wasn't even sure where it was all coming from.

"Maybe it's entropy. Maybe that brilliant psychiatrist mind of yours finally came to a logical conclusion itself."

"Oh look, the man in the batsuit is tryin' to be a therapist."

"I'm not going to be able to change your mind about the life you've chosen, Harleen. But you can. I think tonight has shown you how real the love you thought you shared was. Is this really how you want to go out? Dying at the hands of him? Is this the life you envisioned for yourself?"

"Don't act like you're so much better than him. Ya not."

"You don't sound so sure of that, Harleen."

"Please," she said as her voice cracked. She slumped against the back wall of the vault and rubbed at her eyes. "Jus' stop bein' the bat for five minutes." Her eyes welled up again and for the first time since he'd started all of this, he felt genuine concern for her. He sighed and tried his best to oblige her as he went and slumped against the wall next to her.

"I used to date this woman," he said.

"Huh," said Harley with wide eyes, brimming with tears that trickled down. "This isn't typical silent dark-knight speak," she said as she looked him over. "You dated? I thought you slept in a cave upside down."

Batman grunted and the corner of his mouth went up. "Not far from the truth—but once upon a time I tried it. I thought that I could balance the lives I had. I lied to myself. I couldn't be half of one or the other. Nobody wanted that. I didn't want that.."

"What happened to the girl?"

"She died a long time ago. I always figured I'd end up being the Bat forever when she died," he said as he looked down at his hands, "I thought I would always know how it ends for me. But-"

"But?"

"Times have changed. I can't do this forever. Maybe there's something more out there for me one day when my promise is kept. Like perhaps there is something for you, Harleen. I don't think about it much. I probably should have. You should have thought about it more. Do you honestly think you're irredeemable?"

"Do you?" she asked with sincerity in her voice.

"No, I think you're redeemable. You're better than trying to be happy with a psychotic criminal who uses you as cannon fodder. You're worth more." He saw her smile. "You don't have to listen to me. I just think you know what I'm talking about."

"And what about you, Bats?"

"I haven't got to that point of change just yet," he said. "It is coming one day."

"Can I ask you somethin'?" she said as she edged closer to him.

"Hmm?"

"What would ya do if you couldn't fight anymore? Did you always just wanna grow up to kick criminals down? It seems lonely, seems even lonelier than it has been for me," she said with a deep sigh of relief. "It felt good to say that."

"I—" He rubbed his chin and groaned. "It sounds silly."

"No, it won't sound silly. I wanna know. What is it?" she asked with a bright, beaming smile. He saw the trails of pink skin underneath the white mask of paint and watched them crease as she beamed up at him.

"Do you remember the Gray Ghost?"

"That old wacky cartoon?"

"The very same. I wanted to be him. I guess I got my wish," he said with a sigh. "I have never thought about it, truth be told. I've thought about what I would do if I couldn't do this anymore, and that thought scares me."

"The Batman gets scared," she said with awe. "I just wanted to help people and maybe I went about it wrong," she replied. "I wanted to be loved. Now I'll end up being a corpse with nothing to show for it."

"There's always a choice, Harley. If you wanted to change, you could."

"Too late for that, B-Man. We'll be goners soon."

He grunted, looked around the room, and then back to her. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"If you couldn't be Harley-Quinn, who would you want to be? What's behind this white paint?"

She pondered on it. He watched her as she thought deeply. "I'd want to be Harleen Quinzel—the girl who can be happy and loved." She smiled but there was a sadness in it. "I ain't been happy for a long time."

"I guess we're both going with regrets then," said Batman.

They sat in silence for a while. He was unsure of what else he could say to her. He already felt like he'd said too much, and that perhaps if they did survive she would return to the Joker with some new information that he could toy around with until their next escapade. But something else inside him told him there was a change, a flicker; a spark of something that he saw in her eyes and something he'd felt himself. The floodgates had opened too much, and right now in this moment, trapped in here with her as she leaned her head on his shoulder, he felt like he could tell her almost anything.

"Why didn't you want him to shoot me, really?"

"If we ever make it out of here, I'll tell you," she said. "If only we had a way out."

He reached into his belt and pulled out the one thing he needed. It was the rebreather with the liquid-oxygen capsules on either side. He examined it in the dim light and then held it in front of her face.

"I can already feel the air getting thin," he said. "I don't know how long it will take for help to come but this will give you some extra time. Hopefully it will help—"

"Are you crazy? I'm not takin' that."

"Yes, you are, Quinn. Remember, we've always got a choice."

"And you're choosin' to let me live while you choke to death? No thanks, Batbrain."

"It wasn't a request. Take it." He thrust it towards her and she raised her hands. "Now."

"Why?" she asked. "Why do this, why help me when I've been nothin' but a burden, when I'm part of the reason you'll die?"

"Because second chances exist."

He wanted her to live. He really did. Something in her eyes had shown him there was hope for her. He remembered when he'd looked into the Joker's eyes once and seen a semblance of regret and they'd both agreed it was a lost cause. With Harley, she was brimming with it. All she needed was the right opportunity, and the he had shown her how expendable she was. If she could live, maybe she could change, and that would be enough for him in those moments. Maybe he would make it, maybe not, but Harley would come back from this and that's all he needed to know. He felt the air getting thinner and there was no noises except for the thumping rattle of falling debris outside the vault.

"Batman, please," she said and he saw her red eyes gearing up for fresh tears. "Is this really how it all ends?" Her hands slid around his arm. He liked that.

He shook his head. "I'm going to slow my heart-rate down. Let's just stay here a while and hope. When you feel like the air is too thin, put that in your mouth. Do you promise me, Harleen?" he said as he handed her a smoke pellet. "You'll know when to use this if it comes to it. Now promise me if we get out, you'll make a better choice."

She nodded and her lip creased. "I promise."

Minutes flowed by and he felt his world dimming and closed his eyes. Outside of his consciousness he could feel Harley hugging his arm tightly. In the meditative state he couldn't understand how long he was in silence. Minutes passed until time became nothing to him and there was a sudden muffled explosion.

"You saved me," he heard Harley echo in the darkness of his mind.

Darkness enveloped Bruce, surrounding him, swarming him with a thousand bats as he floated in the darkness he belonged to. He felt the weightlessness of when Harley's grip slid away from him. The mechanical clanking of the vault door and rushing of air filled his ears.

"There she is," yelled a distant voice. "Get her."

There was a loud hiss echoing around him.

"She used smoke. Where'd she go? Is that Batman? What'd she do to him? Is he dead?"

There was a rush of bats swarming him and then he opened his eyes and felt hands pulling him out of the smoke-filled vault into the cold air of the night. "I'm okay," he weakly spluttered out as he pushed the hands away. As he rolled over and climbed to his feet he felt weak. He sucked in fresh, cool air and looked around. The entirety of Falcone's building was destroyed. Rubble littered everywhere and the only untouched, and ironically safe structure was the vault.

"The Joker?" asked Batman.

"We're not sure. The rubble—the whole building is destroyed. They killed everybody. Joker was on a suicide mission, I think he finally lost it," said one of the GCPD officers who'd pulled him out.

Batman looked around. "And Quinn?"

"She got the drop on us. She must have snagged one of your smoke-thingies," said Mel as she climbed over a large chunk of cement. "How'd she manage that? What the fuck happened up there, Batman?"

He looked out towards the dark skyline of Gotham and breathed heavily. Harley, he thought. I hope you don't make me regret this.


	3. The Afterthoughts

The snow was pelting down and she really couldn’t have wished for a better time of year to get lost in the white and grey. She wanted to turn back and see if Batman had managed to get out. Something heavy weighed inside her as she got clear of the GCPD but she knew she’d be cuffed before she could get close. She’d put the rebreather in and watched him close his eyes. He fell back on the wall and slid down it as she was pulled out by hands. How long had he stopped breathing?

No, don’t think about it right now. She had things to do. Her mind was filled with his smug, painted face. A small part of her hoped he’d been crushed in the collapse of the building but she knew he was too slick for that, but he wasn’t slick enough to shake her right now. The anger bubbled up inside. You didn’t leave people you loved to die. You’d do anything you could to save them. Like Batman had done for her. Thoughts of him flashed in her mind but she couldn’t focus on them in the cold. It’d make things worse. 

Enough, idiot. No time to get mushy. Joker would be back at his little funland in the abandoned theme park in the Northern part of Gotham, near the hills. She’d get back there, grab some things, and make her way back to her apartment. Her two hyenas, Bud and Lou, would be waiting for her at the funland and no way was Joker keeping them two beauties. She’d fight him tooth and nail to get them back if that’s what it came to.

By the time she’d got back to Gotham Funland she was seething. Her heart boomed in her chest and she felt nauseous the rage kept everything in check. She’d stepped The Grey Ghost-train and she swallowed another pang of guilt. “I’m goin’ to kill ‘im,” she said as she stormed into the tunnel. 

His workshop was lit up. In the main area behind the large, plastic ghosts and crudely-drawn ghouls was the area filled with boxed, tables, and electronic bits and pieces that Joker had been tinkering with but nothing had been tampered with. Joker hadn’t come back here, so where was he? She ended up waiting around for hours while she concocted all the thoughts in her head. Would the GCPD come back here before he did? Had the Joker been captured? 

She’d sat and watched TV but all the reports from the GCN claimed the act of terrorism was a scapegoat and that her boyfriend—ex boyfriend—had escaped, Batman had been saved by the G.P.T.F—thank God—but there were numerous casualties. That bothered her more than it should have. But the thing that hung in her mind was the thought of Batman sucking down his last few breaths and how he’d selflessly given her a chance to make things right. She let out Bud and Lou who playfully licked at her hands, and told them to follow her as she packed up Joker’s secret rainy day cash from his safe. She walked out of the amusement park, away from everything she knew. Let him rot, she thought. She wouldn’t look back.

Batman was sat on the dock. Melanie had sat next to him nursing a cup of coffee. She handed it to Batman but he grunted and shook his head. 

“We got in here and swarmed the place. The cops told us about the vault and how Joker had pulled a trap. Didn’t think he’d let Harley die too but who knows with him? He blew up the whole building. What happened with you in there?”

“A rare thing,” he said as he looked towards the carnage of rubble and metal. 

He felt so stupid for the mistake but he wouldn’t let it show. When he’d gotten his breath back he congratulated Melanie and her crew for detaining as many goons as they could, but he wouldn’t leave until Joker’s corpse was found. They’d pulled out three goons that were barely breathing, but that was the beauty of their procedures. They believed in restraint and detain, not murder. When he’d approved the funding for the GCPD it had been his main goal, to incorporate the beliefs that had drawn him to his crusade in the first place. And now, he realized how much of a good choice that had been when he looked at how they treated incapacitated criminals. Compassion was at their forefront, not pain. 

They’d thermal scanned the ruin and found only several more corpses. None of them were him. As the faint light of the early morning broke through the clouds, he zipped off through the air, aiming to get back home as quick as possible to find. He’d called in the Batmobile, and drove all the way back to Wayne Manor in silence, his thoughts not on the Joker who’d ended up getting away again out of pure luck, but Harley. He’d checked the GCPD radio signals but all he could hear was them putting her on an APB. He breathed a sigh of relief and drove straight through the caverns of waterfalls, through his tunnel, and out into the Batcave.

Stepping out he was welcomed back by the sound of gushing water, that familiar damp smell, and the distant echoing squeaks of thousands of bats above him. It felt somewhat empty since Alfred had gotten married. It was no issue. Bruce was happy that he was living in his own happiness. He couldn’t demand he follow what life he had left to his own devotion of the night. He’d been the bat long enough to live his own life. As he slid off his mask he thought of cooking something, but decided on coffee as he slumped down in front of the Batcomputer. It was like he was running on autopilot, sipping at the muddy water and leaning on his hand as he flicked through files and files of alphabetically-categorized leads of his foes, names, dates, events, and buildings. He flicked past documents regarding secret societies, cults, and possible dangers all under the headers CASE-CLOSED.

Over time the case-closed category had begun to fill up exponentially. He felt proud of that and skimmed through it again. With Arkham Prime replacing the once failing Arkham Asylum, with his funding, the rehabilitation and containment of Gotham’s criminal underworld was a greater success than he’d ever imagined. Poison Ivy had become a world-renowned medical herbologist and humanitarian, the Penguin had retired and settled down with his wife, becoming the Mayor of some faraway city in the United Kingdom, and Harvey Dent had undergone psychiatric support and had skin-grafts and reconstructive surgery on his face. He’d ended up becoming a consultant for one of the largest law-firms in Gotham. 

There was a plethora of successful cases, so much so that when it came down to it, it seemed like only a few remained; Joker, Riddler, and Scarecrow were still out there, still on their own pathetic crusades but Arkham Prime was containing the thousands of others and had done successfully with a 0.04% success rate of escape. 

He thought back to what he’d told Harley in the vault and mulled it over in his head on the if question of him having to move past Batman but that just bought him back to Harley, teary-eyed. He skimmed her profile and looked over her mugshot that had recently been taken when she’d attempted to blow up Gotham Bridge with the Joker, they’d both failed spectacularly. She looked sad in this recent mugshot though, her eyes were off deep in thought unlike any mugshot before which was a generic Harley-Quinn-esque tongue-out rocker pose. He kept staring at it and could make out there was regret in this new photo.

He finished his coffee and turned the monitor off with a sigh. Why couldn’t he get this niggling thought out of his head? He’d done what he was supposed to. He gave her the choice and she took it so what was the problem? He’d helped her. So as he undressed and made it to bed, why was he still thinking about those blue eyes, why was he thinking of her in this new light, and hoping for all the wrong reasons of why he wished she’d make good on her promise? 

As he laid in the darkness he thought back to the last woman he’d loved; Selina Kyle. He couldn’t help but laugh at how he’d accomplished so many things with Batman. Catwoman had retired and was living out with her husband and two children in Metropolis. She’d send Bruce letters sometimes and the two were still on friendly terms. But that had been five years ago now since they’d shared their final kiss. She couldn’t live with Bruce because Bruce couldn’t live without the Batman, and he agreed. Now, and for the longest time, he felt like there were changes coming hard and fast, and that after he’d vomited out all the truth to the one person he’d never expected, he imagined he was beginning to realize the simple thing he didn’t want to acknowledge at that particular moment. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts flow; of the island of Arkham Prime, and a pair of bright, blue eyes twinkling like stars. He didn’t know which one to focus on more as he drifted away.


	4. Blood loss

Christmas was approaching fast. He’d spent the night after Falcone’s murder patrolling quietly, silently brooding over the skyline of a snow-kissed Gotham. These were quiet times. The city was truly becoming the crimeless pinnacle he’d wanted, almost wanted. Any small time crooks showing up were dealt justice swiftly by the GCPD task force before he could even get close to them. That stung a little but his hopes for crime to happen were quashed when he’d think back to the chaos of before—the broken bones, the nights lost to pain, and the days waking up feeling like he’d drank his weight in tequila. Horrors would come, he was sure of it. The Joker wasn’t dead. There was still plenty to be done before the end was firmly in sight, but the days of silence were frequent, and ever-present.

He’d managed to track Harley pretty easily the night after. She had slinked away from the Gotham Funland and ended up back at one of her dummy apartments under the name of Jennifer Napier. It had flagged up on his Batcomputer and the small camera he’d placed in there had recorded her entrance. She’d stumbled in with her two hyenas, held her side, and promptly fallen asleep on the red, leather couch in the lounge. When he’d checked the camera later in the night she still hadn’t moved. The gunshot. It wasn’t like she could walk into a hospital and get a checkup. The wound was serious, and she’d need medical attention immediately or sepsis could have begun. He’d prepped a small medical-kit and decided to go and check on her. He told himself it was his duty to make sure she was okay. He didn’t want to acknowledge any other thoughts about her as he sped off in the Batmobile.

It was a few minutes after three when he pulled himself up towards her balcony with his Batclaw and jumped the railing. The glass windows of it gave way to the lounge, while the other side was her bedroom. She’d stumbled from the couch to the bed by the time he’d reached her. Her two hyenas slept soundly on the bed with her but he’d noticed fresh blood on the floor and the white sheets of the bed had begun to change to a darker, crimson color. He opened the balcony door which, to his surprise, was unlocked and stepped inside. The two hyenas jumped up and began growling.

He’d fought them before and they were vicious. He just needed to make sure she was okay. The one on the left moved to him while the one of the right stayed close to Harley who seemed weak. Batman watched as the hyena lunged at him. He caught it and span away. It landed against the wall with a yelping thud. The second one jumped for him but stopped as a voice weakly rang out. 

“Stop,” he heard Harley yell. 

He looked at her. The left side of her suit was soaked in blood. She seemed dizzy. Her head bobbed and she slumped back down with a gasp. “Bats—“ She fell into the sheets. She needed medical attention, and she wasn’t going to get it with a care-package. The hyena behind him didn’t growl but the look on his face was akin to a prison guard watching the most volatile guy in the courtyard. Don’t do anything stupid, Batman. 

He moved to Harley and put his fingers to her neck. “Low,” he whispered. She felt light in his arms as he scooped her up. He watched the two hyenas moved around him, making sure he didn’t hurt her. “I’m not going to do anything,” he said to them as he moved backwards, back out towards the balcony. They edged closer to him but he was already over the railing and plummeting down with Harley in his arms. He held her tightly as he flew through the air. His cape extended and he landed softly on the street. The Batmobile wasn’t far from here. Harley groaned in his arms. He needed to get her back to the Batcave. She’d lost a lot of blood. Why didn’t I go after her when she ran? She’d have been safer. 

By the time he’d gotten back to the Batcave Harley was unresponsive. He wiped at the paint on her face and couldn’t tell her real skin apart. He carried her out of the passenger side and over towards the same medical table Alfred had helped him onto a hundred times before. He’d had emergency blood stored in refrigeration units, and from her file he could tell what blood type she was. Once he’d set up the blood-transfusion unit, he set about in administering pain medication, and finally stitching up the wound. The old patches fell to the floor with the old bandages. He watched her squirm as she flit in and out of consciousness. “Bat—“ 

“Conserve your strength,” he would say whenever she came through. 

She tensed up as he began the task of stitching the hole on the left side of her ribs. But once he’d finished, he could see color returning to her face. He could feel himself sweating through his Batsuit as he bandaged her up and made sure to disinfect everything. He grabbed a sponge, some warm water, and a cloth and began to wipe away at the paint on her face which was dried. It cracked as she made strange faces at the sensation but she couldn’t come back to consciousness so easily. When he’d wiped away the last of the facepaint he dried it and looked at her. She seemed agitated, but she wasn’t losing any blood, and she’d live. He could only imagine she’d never been shot. Bruises and broken bones could be healed with rest, but a gunshot would kill you quick or slow. It only made things seem all that worse when he thought about how close he’d come to seeing her die. Enough people had died, he thought. He didn’t want her death on his conscience either. 

He watched her shiver and found her a blanket underneath the table. He covered her in it and she remained asleep as he went back to the Batcomputer. He had to make sure she was okay. She had a promise to keep and she couldn’t do it if she died on the first day.

It wasn’t until eight in the morning that she stirred. He’d stayed at the Batcomputer until then and kept his eye on the police scanners. Besides a few muggings there wasn’t anything on the network regarding Joker, Riddler, or even Scarecrow. They were all biding their time he supposed. The GCPD task force were like water, flowing through the streets and washing away anything impure with such precision that he could just sit here and watch them. Bruce figured that’s how it was when you put literal millions into the funding of the police. 

“Where am I?” asked Harley as she sat up and looked at the tube in her arm. 

Batman watched her as she looked at it and then up at him. He walked down the stairs. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. I performed a transfusion,” he said as he approached her. “Don’t struggle. You’ll need to rest and—“ Her arm wrapped around him tightly, yanking him towards her. 

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered in his ear. “I thought you were this time.”

“You almost were,” he replied. “I came to check on you. I knew you couldn’t go anywhere else for medical treatment. You lost a lot of blood. I had to bring you here.”

“Is this ya secret cave?” She pulled away from him and looked up at the blackness of the ceiling that stretched out. “You take this Bat thing seriously.”

“Would you like something to eat?”

“What do you have?”

He’d headed up and grabbed as much stuff as he could out his kitchen. Salami, cheese, crackers, cold soup, some bottles of water, and a bowl of chicken that he’d sliced up for sandwhiches. He bought it all over on a tray and placed it on the table. “Eat. You need it.” 

She grabbed the cheese and munched it down ravenously. After that she’d gobbled up the chicken and began cramming in salami on crackers. Batman watched her and could tell she felt his eyes on her. With her cheeks filled like a hamster she stared at him.

“Whamph?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Eat.” 

Her legs dangled on the table as she gulped down another mouthful. Batman stepped away from her and looked down over the railing, to the bottomless pit of blackness and water. “Any news from Joker?”

“No, I didn’t hear anything. I hope he’s dead. I meant it when I promised you I’d try. I know this is a lousy start.”

“It’s not your fault, Harleen. I should have been smart. I know you couldn’t walk into a hospital.” 

“You’ve done enough.” 

“There’s one more thing I have to do,” he said as he removed the needle from her arm and placed another patch of synthetic skin on her arm. “I had to slice your suit from the wrist up, I hope you don’t mind.” 

He felt her stare at him as she blinked. “No. It’s fine.” 

“Come with me,” he said. “Bring the food.” 

She followed after him like a puppy as he bought her to the Batcomputer. She pulled a stool next to him as he sat down in his chair and typed away. Harley watched, still cramming food into her mouth. “Woah,” she said. “I knew you were rich but you’ve got a whole cinema here.”

“It’s more than a cinema,” he said as he his fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard until finally there was a flash of the screen. 

The police record for Harley Quinn was spread across the panel. The current APB and BOLOs for her were still active. He went about removing them as well as wiping her record from the public server. 

“What are you—“ 

“I will still have your record, Harleen. But if you promise me to do better, then I’ll never have to reinstate it. When you leave here, you’ll be free to do what you want. It’s up to you to make good on that.”

“Just like that?”

“Second chances,” said Batman.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Should I not?”

“No. I just—I didn’t expect this from you. I’ve done a lot of bad to you and others and I just feel like—“

“Don’t feel anything but grateful at the chance.”

“But—“

“You can’t move forward if you keep looking back, do you understand?”

He looked at her as she nodded. “You keep surprising me,” she said. 

“I want you to surprise me,” said Batman as he looked at her. “I want you to show me different.”

“I will,” she said as she beamed at him and stuck out her chest. “I’m gonna do you proud.”


	5. The First Step

Almost a week after that night in Batman’s cave, Harley got a job and that was a small start. She’d decided to ditch the makeup and suit, ditch the clown, and now she was ditching the outlaw life. Paulie’s Diner which was a quaint 1950s looking joint in the center of Gotham. She’d applied for work there as a waitress under the Napier name and had gotten the job immediately. It wasn’t special, and it wasn’t exactly the career of a lifetime but it would be enough, and she found herself enjoying the work if not being extremely exhausted. Whenever she’d get an angry, disgruntled customer she’d push those thoughts of violence aside. The images in her head of bonking the fat guy screaming for more maple syrup with a mallet would fade out as she thought of Batman and how she didn’t want to let him down. She wanted to make a life worth living that he’d be proud of. 

When she’d return home exhausted she’d always expect Joker to be waiting for her but he really had slipped out of Gotham for the time being. Nobody had heard from him. After almost two weeks of silence, she had decided he really was gone, or really had moved on. That was okay. It made this whole process easier.

Sometimes she’d want to find him, she’d think of all the things they did and how they could fix the mistakes. But every night when she’d sit on her balcony, she felt safer in the dark, safer thinking of Batman and how he was a part of everything around her instead of him. She knew she was romanticizing him but it didn’t matter. Better to feel safe around the Bat than feel weak at the knees for a man who’d left her to die over an obsession. She told herself it was just a way of coping, that she didn’t really like the Bat, and that she was doing this for herself. It was a half-truth. She wanted him to see her. She just needed a push was all; and he provided it. But if it was just motivation then why did she keep looking out in the darkness at night? Why did her stomach go weak when she’d think of him out there, protecting her. She used to fear him, now she missed him. She wouldn’t let those feelings grow, she couldn’t; she wouldn’t. What was there in that for either of them but misery? Right? 

She was always getting attached to projects, and she couldn’t allow herself to get attached to a man in a batsuit. That would just be crazy. But she was that, wasn’t she? What a fool she was to even think of hoping he’d come to see her, to check up on her. Bud and Lou would sit with her sometimes when she’d smoke outside after her long shifts, when she’d sit and think over how to stay on this path she’d begun and even then she’d tell herself to give up, to stop hoping for somebody to come to her. It was time to be a big girl, even if that meant she was alone. She had to be strong for herself now away from Joker, and away from the Bat. Her heart would flutter when she’d look out at the skyline and for some reason she couldn’t push these dreams away when she slept; of the sound of rushing water, the distant echoing screeches of bats, and a pair of hands around her waist as she kissed a mouth in the dark.


	6. The Balcony Talk

He’d scoured for weeks and checked every lead he could but the Joker was gone. Every hideout he’d gone to was wiped cleaned, scrubbed down, and abandoned. It was like he’d evaporated into thin air and was now just a memory, and why? Batman wasn’t entirely sure himself of it but something felt different. Was this all just a trap? A ploy to lower his guard and pull him into a false sense of security? Maybe. That was Joker’s game and the rules always shifted but the victory was the same goal—but it was like he’d taken himself straight off the board. Gotham had returned back to that niggling but perpetual peace that was beginning to haunt him so much so that after three weeks of pure silence with only little scraps with criminals here and there, he had realized he spent most his time looking out for Harley. He’d told himself that it was because the Joker would go back to her at some point, but that half-truth was enough for him, for now.

That rising pressure in his chest and the weakness he’d feel whenever she looked out towards him was beginning to suffocate him every little bit more each night. He’d sit in blackness, listening to the whistling wind on snow-kissed rooftops, brooding away while trying to piece together these feelings he’d pushed down. It was all speculation and deliberation at this point. Was he coming here because of the Joker, really? Or was it just because of Harley? Every night he’d think of her beaming proudly, smiling at him. He’d think of the night in the vault, or the way she felt in his arms. It was all just to pinpoint that spark, that electrical push that made him feel himself pulling towards her. That same pull was still around him now, and he couldn’t stop it. He’d thought about it as he sat on the railing.

Those hyenas of hers had begun to growl from behind the grass and he could tell they remembered him from the last time. There was a sudden rush of air as the doors opened. Harley rubbed at her eyes sleepily as she stepped out in her red and black dressing gown with the imprinted diamond pattern. “Batman?” she asked, her voice croaking. “Is that you? What are you doin’ here?”

His cape lapped at the metal railing of her balcony as she stepped out to the sound of growls behind her. “Bud. Lou. Stay.” Both of the thin, furry hyenas stopped and jumped onto her bed. 

“You got a job,” said Batman. 

“I did,” she said as she beamed with her hands behind her back. “I told you I would.”

“You made the choice. I’m proud of you.”

“Are ya here to look for him?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m not here for him. He’s gone. I don’t know where.” 

“Is everything okay?”

“Do you remember what I said before about Batman not being needed—“

“About not bein’ needed in Gotham? I remember,” she said as she ran a hand through her hair. “Why?”

He couldn’t stop running his mouth. “How many of these super-criminals do you think are left?”

“In Gotham?” She rocked on the balls of her feet and sucked in fresh air. “Barely any. I dunno, Bats. They’re all locked up in Arkham. Why’d you ask me?”

He looked down. “Maybe saying it out loud to you that night in the vault gave me a push, but I didn’t think it was so close. I knew things were coming, but now they’re almost at the door. I’m more of a symbol than anything else at this point. I’m winning.”

“That’s what you wanted?” she asked as she reached into her pocket for a cigarette. She leaned against the railing. “You’ve done all you needed to do. Maybe it’s time for somethin’ new, y’know? If I can do it, you could too,” she said with a smile before it slid off her face. “You helped me and I’m doin’ my best. It’s hard but it feels different this time.”

“You helped me too. Must have been the psychiatrist in you,” he said with a smile.

“You’re hilarious but I’m done with funny men,” she said as she lit up the cigarette. “I didn’t lie to you.” 

“I know you didn’t. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to come. Truth be told there’s not many people I have left to talk to. I don’t think I should even be here talking to you.”

“You’re the brooding detective. You’re smarter than me, Bats. Although this is pretty strange,” she said with a small laugh. She sucked on her cigarette and he watched her as she blew out a ring of smoke. “I never expected for us ta become friends.”

“We’re friends?”

“Get off my balcony if you don’t wanna be. I’m sure Scarecrow could charge ya for sessions.”

“I’m okay with friends. How is your job? How’s everything since then?”

“I’m not used to the loneliness yet. It was always me and Mist—him. Work is tough. Paulie’s Diner isn’t the pinnacle of what I’d say is great work but it’s a start, y’know? Long hours. You should come in sometime.”

“I already have,” he said.

“What? No way.”

“Yes way.”

He looked out again and he felt her staring at him. Her hand slid to his shoulder. “What is it, Bats?”

“I don’t know. It’s all I’ve known for so long. I guess I’m having trouble with seeing the end. I can’t see between Batman and B—“ 

“What was that?” she asked as she pulled his face towards her. “You were gonna tell me who you really are, weren’t ya, B-Man?”

He didn’t know what to say. He looked back out at Gotham. “No. Maybe this is because I’m starting to get into new territory. I guess I’ve got to come to terms with things.” 

“We’re both on uneven ground,” said Harley as she inhaled her cigarette again. “There’s still parts of the old me in here,” she said as she tapped her chest. “But you help me keep that in check.”

“I do?”

“You gave me that chance to change. I don’t wanna let you down, B-Man. I’m really trying to do things differently. Not for him. But for—for myself and for you. I guess when it comes down to it, we can make little changes slowly.” 

He smiled again. “Little changes. This is definitely a big change. I feel better after talking to you—same as that night in the vault. It shouldn’t but it does. I don’t know why.”

He felt her lean into him a little. “You keep showin’ up on my balcony I might have to charge ya for therapy sessions.”

“I’m good for the money.”

She leaned in and kissed him on his cheek. Her lips felt soft against the rough stubble of his beard. He looked at her as she walked back to the glass doors and inside. “It’s dangerous for us to talk like this, Bats. We really are worlds apart. Always was. If he did show up, we’d both be in trouble and he’d kill me. Not like he cared about me anyway but he’s crazy,” she said with sadness in her voice. 

Batman nodded. “I know.”

She turned to face Lou and Bud who had gotten themselves comfortable on her bed. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk—“ She looked back to the balcony that was now empty. In the distance was the sound of sirens. She got back into bed and smiled to herself. Lou looked up at her with his grin. “What’s so funny, huh?” she asked before she rolled over, still smiling to herself, she put her fingers to her lips and gently ran her finger across them before closing her eyes, and drifting off with the smile still firmly on her face.


End file.
